


Like a Bird in the Snow

by Lady_Vibeke



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Homeless, Bonding, Cinnamon Roll Caitlin Snow, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Grumpy Mick Rory, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 09:17:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19809301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Vibeke/pseuds/Lady_Vibeke
Summary: People gave them puzzled looks when they saw them sitting together. Caitlin didn't mind that, but Mick wasn't comfortable under all those curious eyes and even though he never refused when Caitlin asked for his company over a coffee, it was clear he did that more not to disappoint her rather than for himself.Caitlin wasn't ashamed to be seen with him: he was scruffy, alright, but he was clean and discreet and quite an enjoyable company, once you got used to him. She had had the arguable pleasure to sit with men much more unrefined than him, in her life."I brought you these," she announced one morning, pushing a box of meds across the table. "For your cough."Mick stared at it, blinking. "I didn't ask for anything.""I know," she said patiently. She had expected him to be reluctant. "Just take them. Twice a day, preferably always at the same time. They'll relieve your bronchi.""My what?""Never mind. Just take these, okay?"Mick observed her with an unreadable scowl. She felt like she was being x-rayed – for what, she couldn't fathom."Why you doin' this, Snowflake?"[ Killerwave Homeless AU ]





	Like a Bird in the Snow

**Author's Note:**

> What is this even? Like, I didn't ship Mick and Caitlin until this morning, LITERALLY. I was reading random fics and saw the pairing in a tag, so I ventured into the tag and... it made sense?? I loved the idea?? And the dialogues for this story started flowing in my brain and... yeah, here we are.

_Oh, why can't you let go?_  
_Like a bird in the snow_  
_This is no place to build your home  
__—_ Friction, Imagine Dragons

***

It had taken Caitlin a few weeks to adjust to the new neighbourhood, but she was starting to like it, now that she could walk around without losing her way every couple of turns.

She had finally found a coffee shop she liked just two blocks down the street and she was immensely glad of that, because Halloween was approaching and that meant pumpkin spice lattes and cinnamon rolls at least three times a week. That was mandatory.

It was a Sunday morning and she had had a hard time remembering where exactly the café was located, having been there just once before, but when she turned the corner and saw its bright red sign above the door – _Jitters_ – her heart sang. She'd been anticipating this moment all week.

As she approached, she noticed something that hadn't been there last time: a large figure huddled in a corner with a ragged old cup at his feet.

Caitlin's chest tightened when she got closer. It was a man in his late forties, clad in a heavy gray coat, head hidden by a woolen cap. He looked like he was going through a rough patch: unkempt stubble, face reddened by the cold, knuckles scraped and cut in several spots. He also seemed to have a bad cough.

"Good morning," she greeted as she walked past him to get inside. The man barely looked at her, but Caitlin got a glimpse of hostile blue eyes.

Inside, she ordered her usual and, on a second thought, she threw in a cappuccino and a couple of bagels, which she handed to the man sitting outside, only to receive a vague grunt in return.

"You're welcome," she said pleasantly. Rudeness irked her but maybe the poor fellow didn't even speak her language.

*

The man was still there the second time she returned to _Jitters._ And the third, and fourth, too. Through sun and rain, warm and cold, he was always sitting there on the ground, his cup in front of him, waiting for someone to drop a coin or two.

Caitlin would never leave the café without getting something for him. With time, his grunts slowly turned into muffled _thanks,_ then into neater, louder _thank yous._ His voice was deep and coarse, and suited him so well it was almost funny.

When the temperatures started to drop, she brought him a scarf. He accepted it without even an attempt of polite refusal. From that day on, she always saw him with her red scarf tightly wrapped around his neck.

Today, Caitlin was planning on getting him something with extra sugar, but the frozen wind and the cloudy sky persuaded her to change her plans.

"It's cold, today," she said, a hint of concern lacing her voice.

The man snorted out a sarcastic laugh that turned into a nasty coughing fit. "No kidding," he said as soon as he could breathe normally again.

Caitlin repressed an irritated shudder. Why did he have to be so unpleasant when she was just trying to be kind?

She took a deep breath to calm down and asked: "Would you like a cup of hot tea?"

The man finally bothered to look up at her with a sneer in his eyes.

"Do I look like a damn pansy to you, kid?" he grumbled, making Caitlin groan inwardly. Why was she even _trying?_

"How about spiked tea?"

"You're a stubborn little thing."

Caitlin's face scrunched into an exasperated pout. "Well, you're _rude."_

"Then leave me alone," he scoffed.

So she did.

She went in, welcomed by the warm lights and the delicious smell of freshly baked muffins. She sat at the counter with a couple of those and a caramel chai, pondering how lucky she was to be here for the mere pleasure of it, and to have a cosy, comfortable home to return to at the end of the day.

She had never taken her very well paid job at STAR Labs for granted, but everything else... she had never stopped to think what it must be like not to have a warm bed to sleep at night, and a whole kitchen filled with food to choose from, and so many other things she had barely even considered.

She was blessed to have all of this.

On her way out, she dropped a steamy hot cup into the hands of the rude guy and rushed away without a word, heels ticking nervously on the concrete.

She didn't see him lift the lid just enough to smell the pugent scent of brandy and look up to see her disappering in the crowd.

She didn't see him raise his tea to her in the parody of a toast.

She didn't see his smile.

*

It was a Sunday afternoon when she returned and he spoke to her first for the first time.

"Thank you," he mumbled without looking at her. "For the other day."

Caitlin found herself smiling despite herself. Well, this was a nice change.

"Oh, so you do have manners," she noted. "You're welcome, mister...?"

The man scoffed: "Nuh. We're not there yet."

Caitlin's nostrils flared. This guys was impossible.

"Fine," she snapped. She sat her chin and turned her back at him as dramatically as she could. "Have a good day, Mr Not-There-Yet."

Fuming, she ordered a black coffee and slumped down into a chair at the closest table to spend the next hour trying to stare down the steam rising from her cup.

When she left, Grumpy Guy wasn't there.

*

"It's Rory. Mick Rory."

Caitlin stopped dead in her tracks with her hand already pushing the door open. She let it go and took a step back to glance down at the hunched figure looking up at her with the least convincing apologetic face she had ever seen.

Thin, light snow had started falling from the yellowish sky. For the first time in months, she could see the man's – _Mick's_ face clearly. His features were too rough to say he was handsome, but there was something to his rugged apprearance that made him unconventionally attractive.

Not that it mattered, of course. It didn't matter at all.

"Oh." This was an unexpected twist. "Caitlin," she said, surprised. "Doctor Caitlin Snow."

Mick's dark eyebrows shot upwards. "Aren't you a little young to play Doctor?"

Caitlin crossed her arms with an offended frown. "Aren't you a little too old to judge people by their appearance?"

Mick sniggered but said nothing. He smothered one of his coughing fits into his shoulder.

"Would you like your usual, Mick?" Caitlin asked as peace offering. He was a strange man, that was for sure.

"Bring it on," he replied with a shrug, but this wasn't exactly what Caitlin had in mind. She bit her lip, wondering if this was a good idea; it probably wasn't, but...

"I mean, would you like to sit down and have it with me?"

Mick stilled and didn't move for several seconds. Caitlin only heard him ask: "Why?"

 _Why?_ What sort of question was that?

"What sort of question is that?"

"A simple one," he deadpanned. "Why would you want a dirty old man to sit with your fancy little ass?"

His language made Caitlin blush to her toes. Why was he being so stubbornly disagreeable when she was only trying to be nice?

"Because I'm a decent person, for startes," she retorted, setting her chin. "And I figured you might use spending some time in a warm, dry place," she added, casting a glance at the wet layer of snow that was forming on the ground.

"Such a good samaritan," Mick muttered. It didn't discourage Caitlin: she was starting to figure out his attitutde and to catch glimpses of something else – someone else – hidden beneath the thorny surface.

"Well?"

"Well what?

Caitlin arched her brows: "You coming or not?"

Just as she started fearing he was going to turn her away, he pulled himself up with a grunt.

"You're stubborn as hell, woman," he complained as he walked in. Caitlin couldn't decide if she should laugh or feel insulted.

She went for the former.

*

People gave them puzzled looks when they saw them sitting together. Caitlin didn't mind that, but Mick wasn't comfortable under all those curious eyes and even though he never refused when Caitlin asked for his company over a coffee, it was clear he did that more not to disappoint her rather than for himself.

Caitlin wasn't ashamed to be seen with him: he was scruffy, alright, but he was clean and discreet and quite an enjoyable company, once you got used to him. She had had the arguable pleasure to sit with men much more unrefined than him, in her life.

"I brought you these," she announced one morning, pushing a box of meds across the table. "For your cough."

Mick stared at it, blinking. "I didn't ask for anything."

"I know," she said patiently. She had expected him to be reluctant. "Just take them. Twice a day, preferably always at the same time. They'll relieve your bronchi."

"My what?"

"Never mind. Just take these, okay?"

Mick observed her with an unreadable scowl. She felt like she was being x-rayed – for what, she couldn't fathom.

"Why you doin' this, Snowflake?"

The nickname caused a little commotion into her chest, a funny tingle in her heart that spread to the nape of her neck.

"You're an insufferable grump, but I know that deep down you're a good man."

"No, I'm not." Mick took a sip from his coffee. "How d'you think I ended up on the street, uh? I'm a thief and pyromaniac. Been in jail longer than I've been out."

Somehow, it didn't come as a surprise. Mick had this look – _prison hard,_ one might say – that unmistakably marked him as a jailbird: iron muscles, scars and tattoos, and a cold sheen in his eyes that she hadn't been able to place, so far.

The news didn't bother Caitlin half as much as it should, so she just shrugged. "You're not in jail now, though, are you?"

"So?"

"So you're trying to stay out of trouble."

Mick smirked mischievously: "That, or the cops haven't caught me yet."

Caitlin shook her head in amusement. She _hoped_ that wasn't the case.

There was something she'd been meaning to ask him for a while, now, but it was a very delicate question and she didn't want him to think she wanted to snoop into his private business. She was sincerely concerned about him and she really wanted to know.

"How long have you been... you know..."

She bit her lip nervously, but the question didn't seem to bother Mick.

"A street rat?" he offered matter-of-factly. She nodded. "Few years. Not much to do out there for a guy with my history."

Caitlin gazed down at her hands. "I'm sorry."

"Why? 's not your fault."

"Have you ever heard of empathy?" she replied, a bit curtly. "Some people have it."

"What about you?" he inquired. "How did you become a baby doctor?"

It was Caitlin's turn to be cheeky: "I'm very smart."

Unexpectedly, Mick grinned. "Yeah, I could tell. Pretty and smart."

Caitlin felt a rush of heat in her ears. Had he just complimented her or...

"Aren't your brains intimidating for your boyfriend?"

She chewed at her bottom lip, still slightly embarrassed. "There's- there's no boyfriend."

"Girlfriend, then."

Caitlin blushed even harder.

"No! I don't- I'm not-" She cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure. "I'm single."

"Huh."

 _"Huh?_ What is that supposed to mean?"

Mick's eyes pored into hers and she felt suddenly naked.

"You look lonely," he said, not a hint of colour in his tone. "You should find someone."

"What if I don't need someone?" she said defensively. She had friends, colleagues... did she _really_ need a partner? She had always been more than enough to herself.

Mick was still staring at her. "We all do."

"Do you?" Caitlin asked without thinking. "Have someone, I mean."

She regretted it immediately. Not only this was none of her business, but what would he think?

Mick, however, had no trouble answering: "Only family I ever had are my best buddy and his sister. But he's in jail, now. Killed his old man. The bastard laid his hands on his little sister one too many times."

Caitlin couldn't control the horror spreading on her face. She had no idea if by that Mick meant abuse or _worse,_ but, either way, it was eerie and heart-breaking.

"That's terrible!"

"Yeah," he agreed bitterly. "He saved her life and now he's rotting behind bars. They should've given him a fucking medal."

Caitlin shuddered. That was a side of justice she would never undestand. She was with Mick: someone who killed their violent father to protect their sister was a hero, not a muderer.

"What about her? The sister."

Mick's face darkened. His eyes grew distant. "Wish I knew," he muttered under his breath. Caitlin saw his Adam's apple bob. "She left after Len was arrested, haven't heard of her since."

She walked home with a heavy heart, that afternoon. Mick's words were still buzzing in her head, pulling strings in her soul, stirring feelings she didn't know how to handle.

When she got home and looked at herself in the mirror, Caitlin found her cheeks streaked with tears. She wiped them away, splashing cool water over her face.

She was feeling strange, almsot feverish.

That night, in her restless sleep, she dreamed of a good man burning alive in his own personal corner of hell.

*

Mick wasn't there when she returned to Jitters.

She had had crazy week at work and had barely had time to eat, let alone spoil herself at the café, despite desperately wanting to. Also, she would never admit it, but she missed her chats with her favourite grump.

She came back the day after, and the day after that. Mick still didn't show up.

Caitlin was starting to get seriously worried. It had started to snow again, and this time it was copious and steady.

Not knowing who she could turn to, she asked the bartender:

"Hey, do you have any idea where Mick could be? You know, the homeless guy who usually sits outside here."

"He hasn't shown up in a couple of days," she said. "His cough was getting kinda nasty, though. He usually sleeps under the bridge down the street. Maybe he's there."

Caitlin didn't give it a second thought: one moment later she was rushing down the street, headed to the bridge.

She had never been in that part of the city: it wasn't as bad as she expcted, but it wasn't good, either: old, abandoned factories on one side and the river on the other. It wasn't a safe place for a sick man to stay.

There were several refuges built out of cardboard along the banks of the river; Caitlin didn't dare to check inside, hoping she would find Mick before she woke the wrong person. It was late, the sun was slowly setting and the wind was cold and merciless. She would never find Mick in the dark.

She was heading back to the main street, anxious and dejected, when she spotted something red in a dim corner.

"Mick?" she called, rushing towards him.

It _was_ him: he was wrapped in a dirty blanket, pale and shivering. His hands were frozen.

"Watcha doin' here, Snowflake? This is no place for you."

Caitlin ignored him. "You can't stay here. You need help." She touched his forehead and gasped when she felt how hot he was. "Oh my god, you're burning!"

"I'm good," he mumbled, but his ragged breath betrayed him.

Caitlin didn't know what do to. She needed to think fast: it was getting dark fast and with the dark all sorts of dangers would crawl out of their hiding spots; on the other hand, she couldn't abandon Mick: with the proper care, he would be able to recover soon, but he needed a safe, healthy place to be as he healed.

"Come home with me."

Mick's misty eyes struggled to meet hers. "What?"

"Come home with me," she repeated, more firmly this time. This was crazy, but she had no choice. He didn't deserve to die in this filthy corner, all alone. "I have a big apartment, plenty of room to share-"

She urged him to stand up, but Mick tried to push her away. "I'm not going anywhere with you, kid."

"Why not? I could-"

He leant back into the wall he was resting against. The resignation in his look was so painful it hit Caitlin like a punch.

"Look at us," he panted. "You're a posh little princess and I'm a bag of stinky garbage. Girls like you should stay away from men like me."

"I'm not afraid of you," she objected sternly, and attempted once more to pull him to his feet – which was useless, of course, because he was huge and she was so small...

"You should be," Mick insisted, and Caitlin was starting to feel tears of frustration sting in her eyes.

"Well, I'm not!"

He pried his hands from hers, turned to one side to avoid her gaze. "You should leave, Snowflake. It's getting dark."

"But-"

_"Go away, you stupid girl!"_

Caitlin jumped to her feet, wounded by the harshness in Mick's voice. She couldn't hold back the tears that started rolling down her face.

She walked away with a hand clasped over her mouth to stifle her sobs. She didn't know wether she was crying for Mick's aggressiveness or because he wouldn't let her help him. It didn't matter: if he didn't want her, she couldn't force him.

"Why are you crying, pretty girl?"

Caitlin froze. She looked around, trying to see where the creepy voice had come from. She saw a shadow move in the pale light coming from the street above. She didn't run fast enough.

Her back hit the wet ground before she even realised she was being assaulted. She screamed, but a calloused hand quickly covered her mouth to silence her.

"Don't make this hard, sweetie," the man sniggered into her face. His breath was revolting. Caitlin felt his hand grope her thigh and gagged in terror.

She screamed again when she heard the man unbuckle his pants, but her scream died in his hand. Her tears only seemed to make him more eager.

"This is gonna be good," he hissed, pressing his weight over her. "So goo-"

"Get your hands off her!"

And then there was nothing.

The cold air was a welcome surprise. Caitlin shot up into a sitting position just in time to see her aggressor land several feet from her with a heavy thud and a cry of pain.

"Did he hurt you?"

Caitlin tore her eyes from the motionless body and saw Mick towering over her with an outstretched hand. He pulled her up like she weighted nothing and grabbed her by her shoulders. _"Did he hurt you?"_ he asked again, shaking her gently.

Unable to speak, Caitlin shook her head.

"Thank you," she whispered, throwing her arms around his neck. His arms closed around her, solid and strong. Safe. "Thank you."

"'s alright." Mick soothingly stroked her hair. His voice was hoarse and fatigued in her ear. "Come on, kid. I'll walk you home."

"It's just two blocks from here. I can-"

Mick pierced her with a glare: "I'm not letting you outta my sight until I know you're safe."

*

They must have looked quite bizarre, leaning onto each other as they walked in silence – Caitlin wet and dishevelled, Mick limping and trembling from the fever.

It took them twice the time it would have normally taken to get to her apartment. Caitlin had never been so happy to see the nondescript square building from a distance.

Mick helped her into the elevator and escorted her to her floor. When she opened her door, hands still shaking a little, Caitlin turned around with a plea in her eyes.

"Could you stay? Please? I don't want to be alone."

It was only half of the truth. The other half was that this man had just saved her from a horrible fate and she just couldn't ignore this.

Mick scrutinised her for a long moment. He was sweaty, breathing unevenly. Caitlin could only imagine the ice he must be feeling in his bones.

 _Please, stay,_ she prayed.

"Okay." He followed her inside, watched her carefully lock the door then shuffle around to turn all the lights on.

"Snowflake?" he asked as she grimaced at her own reflection in the mirror at the entrance. "You gonna be alright?"

"Yeah," Caitlin attemped a small smile, absently smoothing down her skirt soaked in mud. "I'll be after a hot shower and a cup of tea."

Mick gave her a nod. "Go ahead, then. Tea's on me."

Caitlin made a quick evaluation of his physical condition: he was ill, but she could trust him to be alone for a few minutes. The sooner she was out of the shower, the soon her she could send him in and then start thinking about what he needed.

"Thank you."

Five minutes later, feelings so much better, she was walking back to the kitchen in her pyjamas.

"Your turn," she said warmly. "Go ahead, soak yourself up as long as you want."

Mick looked down at himself with an eloquent frown. "But I don't-"

"I have some clothes my ex boyfriend never got back," she said. "You can leave yours outside the door, I'll throw them in the laundry with mine."

As the washing machine rolled, Caitlin moved to the kitchen. She found a whole pot of tea waiting for her. She was halfway through her second cup when Mick appeared on the door way, Caitlin's largest towel wrapped around his waist.

Caitlin nearly choked on her tea.

Most of the upper part of Mick's body was marred: his torso, his side, his arm... large patches of scar tissue overlapped with smooth, flawless skin. He was muscular, just as she had guessed, and had even more tattoos than she had imagined. Mick noticed her stare and looked away self-consciously; Caitlin wanted to tell him it was okay, that he didn't look as bad as he thought – he didn't look bad _at all_ – but words were failing her.

All she managed to utter was: "What happened to you?"

Mick limped into the kitchen, still not looking at her. "Arson gone bad. Don't you dare say you're sorry," he warned.

Caitlin narrowed her eyes: "I was actually gonna say it serves you right."

For some reason, it made Mick smile. Not one of those lopsided smirks of his, but a real, genuine smile that actually reached his eyes.

Cailtin's stomach flipped, in the most pleasant way.

She offered Mick a cup of tea and, oddly enough, he accepted without a single complaint. He sat down at the counter with her and it took Caitlin a couple of minutes to realise she was still staring.

"I should probably get you those clothes," she said, hurrying out of the room.

Back in the kitchen, Mick hid a quiet laugh into his tea.

*

It took a couple of weeks, but eventually Mick got better. The fever was the easiest part to get rid of, but the lung infection was much more serious and harder to fight. Every day Caitlin made sure Mick got his medicines and, even though he refused to stay at her place during the day, he would always return at night, by now well aware that she would go and personally pick him up if he didn't.

He thought she was doing this because she owed him, to repay a debt, and she let him believe it. It was easier like that. She didn't know how long she could make this last, but as long as it did, she would roll with it.

Mick was a great cook: he started making dinner for her one day when she had fallen asleep on her laptop and he was so pleased with Caitlin's compliments that he made it a habit. Caitlin wasn't going to complain.

Soon, getting home after a long day wasn't just a relief, but a real joy. The idea of opening the door to the lights on and the smell of delicious food, and someone waiting for her... it was heart-warming and addictive. So much that she started dreading the day Mick's pride would drive him away from her.

"I don't want you to go," she confessed out of nowhere one night. They were watching the snow fall from the sky from behind the large window in the living room.

Next to her, Mick didn't blink. He fixed the snowflakes with that surly face of his and sighed.

"Why you doin' this, Snowflake?"

Caitlin looked at the two of them standing side by side into the glass, then looked at him with her heart pounding in her chest.

"I thought you would have figured that out by now."

She _saw_ Mick hold his breath. Saw him stiffen and sadden and then slowly turn to her with a threat in his eyes:

"Don't play with fire."

But Caitlin, who had spent enough time with him to be able to call his bluffs, wasn't intimidated. If anything, his response boosted her determination. She turned to face him, looking up the several inches that he had on her. "Funny piece of advice, coming from you."

"That's exactly why you should take it," he retorted, looking a little scary. "You've seen what fire's done to me."

"I'm a doctor," she simply argued. She took one step closer and ran her hands up his arms. "I can handle burns."

Mick's eyes were transfixed into hers, probing, searching for a dobut he wouldn't find.

"Don't do this, kid. Don't do this to yourself."

"You said I should find someone." Caitlin's right hand rose to cup his face, rough with stubble. She brushed her thumb over his cheek, smiling fondly. "Maybe I don't have to look that far, after all."

Mick's forehead creased. His hands, however, as though moving on their own will, found their way to Caitlin's hips and pulled her closer.

"This ain't right," he said softly, but Caitlin was already rising on her tiptoes, dragging him down to her.

"It is," she whispered over his lips. "It is."

Next thing she knew, she was being scooped into his arms and sat down onto the windowsill as Mick's mouth closed upon hers and kissed with such passion and despair that she almost feared this would be a goodbye kiss, an ending.

But as the kiss deepened – as she melted into his embrace, and he molded against her body – she felt there was more than a simple kiss going on. Walls were being torn down, borderlines were being moved to accomodate a new order, a shifting, strengthening feeling.

And as the snow kept falling outside, Caitlin smiled to herself into the warmth of Mick's embrace, thinking that, after all, the Snow had already been falling for a while.

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written a fanfic so fast as I did this. I started it after lunch and I finished this after dinner... this is insane! How did this even happen? I've never been this productive in one single day. I don't know what's taken over me, but I fell in love with the idea of these two falling in love and... nngggh. I'm so weak for soft people falling for grumps.
> 
> I'd love to hear what you think of this because this is a completely new and unexpected pairing for me and I'm not sure I did them justice, but this was a pleasure to write and I hope you enjoyed this, too.


End file.
